Ancestral Ties
by clamoring-minds
Summary: "He who desires, but acts not, breeds pestilence."
1. Prologue

**(Quick Note: I couldn't find a character option for The Darkness but she- I call her a 'she'- is in it. Oh, and I rewrote the entire beginning, oops)**

 **So, this story/prompt is for PrawnNetwork who had an idea and let me run with it. Hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

 **Prologue**

There was nothing around him as he came to. Nothing but complete utter darkness. He was alone but that was perfectly fine with him. He was Death and he didn't need anyone else. He spent his days waiting. Waiting for something that he had yet to find.

Then one day as he sat thinking about the strange rumbling in his stomach, a mysterious mist fanned over him. Death watched in awe as the fog took on a bodily form right in front of him. She was beautiful and she was the Darkness.

They became fast friends, the Darkness and Death. It was a natural attachment. Wherever she spread her destruction, he was sure to follow. They spent their days together trying to create something in this empty void. Something that they could eventually destroy, as was their nature. After a time, Death realized that he felt new emotion for the Darkness. An emotion with no name, for it had never been felt before. (Being one of only two beings in the universe made it entirely too complicated… they had to experience everything for themselves). He felt light, as though beams of yellow were shining out of his soul. He felt dizzy whenever he talked with her. He had the strangest urge to press his mouth onto hers. Death finally decided to name this horrid emotion love and ran off to find the Darkness and tell her this.

But before he could, a booming voice announced its presence to the void. This was God and Death was expected to serve him. Dutifully, Death watched as God created the Leviathans, the first mortal creatures in the newly created universe. After they became too strong, God sent Death down to reap them. Their souls ended up in Purgatory and what was left of them came in the form of a creature who was always hungry. This was Famine and he was Death's brother.

All was well and good in the universe and Death returned to the Darkness's side once more. They soon fell into their usual plotting schemes. This time, they wanted to release the Leviathans from Purgatory and watch them destroy everything that God had created because, as Death had said "we were completely content before he came!" a statement which the Darkness vehemently agreed with.

The murmurings of this outright defiance reached God's ears and he took his most trusted soldiers, the seven archangels, up in arms. With their combined power, they started a fight to stop the Darkness and Death from unleashing their ruin. But Death was scared of God's powerful wrath and ended up joining His side out of fear. As God and his archangels won, they locked the Darkness up in a cage, never to be freed again. Out of the carnage of this terrible battle came War. He was Death's third brother and Death hated him as he was the living, breathing representation of Death's fear and betrayal to his love.

With his love locked away, Death turned his attention to God's newest creations—humans. Death found that taking the souls of these mortals made his own feel restored. His brother Famine would eat the reaped souls and his brother War would create conflict, thus giving Death as many humans as he craved.

It was after the mortals grew smarter and stopped chasing the enchanting call of Death's scythe and the murderous intent of War's power that the youngest Horseman was finally sent to Earth. He was Pestilence and he spread filth and disease to every reach of the globe, bringing souls to his oldest brother once again.

Pestilence gained a reputation as being the reckless one, so Death, feeling as though he had a familial obligation, took the younger brother under his wing. Death cared for Pestilence in a way that he never did with Famine (who was perfectly fine by himself) or War (who Death still held a great deal of animosity towards). Pestilence, in turn, treated Death with a great deal of respect. It was a brotherly bond never yet seen before.

Death would do anything for his baby brother and Pestilence would do anything for Death.


	2. Chapter One

**Again, this is for PrawnNetwork! And Death is not dead! (did I mention that?) EDITED***

* * *

 **Chapter One**

The ground quaked.

It wouldn't have bothered Pestilence so much if the sharp movement of the ground didn't happen in such a rapid succession as it did. He was an ancient being after all. He'd lived through Pompeii, the Valdivia earthquake in Chile, and his personal favorite, the 1931 floods that ravaged China; all of which caused the rocks to tremble and his brother Famine to cheer while people starved as their food sources were destroyed.

But this- This quake was different. It had Pestilence scrambling up from where he slept (of course, he didn't _need_ to sleep but found, strangely enough, that it relieved the terrible ache in his bones) and looking down upon the flat landscape that was Nebraska in the United States of America. The ground split with a terrible cracking noise and out of the rifts poured huge columns of black smoke. The columns met up in one big cloud and Pestilence watched with rapt fascination as the smoke spread over the small state. Pestilence gazed upon the fog as it took control of people's minds. Black tendrils reached out finger-like across their body, up their faces until Pestilence witnessed them kill each other. He was so fascinated by the current predicament on Earth that he almost missed his two brothers' presence.

War spoke first. "Well, damn. Look at that. Little blood for me, little infection for you."

Pestilence shook his head. "It's not mine. I didn't make this. My precious diseases come from germs. This though, this thing comes from the mind."

"What could do such a thing if it's not you, Pestilence?"asked Famine.

Pestilence closed his eyes, rubbing the pads of his fingers over his temples. He glanced out of the corner of his eye over to his second older brother. Poor Famine had been starving. Cut off from mortal souls, he had taken to stealing the souls of demons for sustenance. As it was, he needed at least nine demon souls a day to make up for his hunger pains. But since the new King of Hell had taken control, (the insufferable and smug Crowley) Famine was only allowed one demonic soul a day.

"I don't know," Pestilence admitted.

The three brothers stared down at the humans on Earth. The disease seemed to spread through skin on skin contact and even through bodily fluids such as blood or saliva. It was a typical way to spread an atypical condition. The brothers observed as those who were infected murdered their friends in their small town. They saw the infected being brought down by mere bullets. They groaned simultaneously as the Winchesters came upon the scene.

"Here we go again," War muttered.

"Dean and Sam Winchester." That was from Famine.

Pestilence, on the other hand, was more concerned about the new manner of disease he was seeing.

"Takes control of the mind," he mumbled. "Black snake-like vines on the skin, powers one to murder another, black smoke, the earth breaking apart, the infected killed by simple bullets, what could it be? What does it mean?"

He realized that he said the last bit a little too loudly, as his two brothers were staring at him in confusion.

"Isn't anyone the least bit curious?" Pestilence wondered.

"Not if those idiotic Winchester brothers are there helping. You may remember, brother, that they hurt us," Famine remarked, wiggling his now stub of a finger.

Pestilence looked down at his own nub. The fingers that once held his, Famine and War's rings would never grow back. Just another reminder to the Horsemen that Lucifer had failed on his promise and because of that, they were again banished again from Earth.

"They didn't just take our fingers," War said fiercely. "They took our pride!"

"Quite right, brother."

"War, Famine, please. Don't you understand that this, whatever it is, doesn't come from me? It comes from something else! Something I've never heard of! But who is the maker of this condition? Who?"

A cold breeze wafted past Pestilence's body. He sneezed, wiping snot off of his chin. Famine, thin under his clothes, shivered. War, as rebellious as he was, rolled his eyes. Then a heavy mist of dark grey rolled to a stop underfoot and there appeared Pestilence' last brother, his oldest brother Death.

"Must you be so dramatic in your entrances?" War said.

Death ignored him, instead turning his empty gaze to his youngest brother's.

"It is the Darkness, Pestilence."

Death's voice was filled with a strange affection. Naturally, Pestilence was confused and wrinkled his brow.

"The what?"

"The Darkness," Death repeated. "An ancient creature that goes by many names. Tenebris in Latin. Hēi'àn in Chinese. Temninata in Macedonian. Older than God and the archangels and twice as powerful. She's been locked up since the beginning of time where she could do no harm. It's only with the Mark of Cain could she be released. Once the Mark is removed from its owner's arm, the Darkness is unrestricted in her power again."

"But who had it last?" Pestilence questioned.

It was War who answered. "Dean Winchester."

"Of course it was," Pestilence mumbled.

"The Mark of Cain is a curse, Pestilence. It turns one into a Knight of Hell after death and for reasons I myself do not quite understand, Dean Winchester wanted it removed from his arm," Death explained. "He's a simple human. He doesn't like the idea of this Mark controlling his most basic instincts."

"Which is?" Pestilence queried.

Again it was War who answered, this time with a cruel grin. "To kill."

Pestilence snorted in spite of himself.

"These Winchesters. So full of savior complexes, hate, and condescension."

"And yet they are so empty in the heart," Famine quipped.

"Oh yes, you've tried to affect his soul, haven't you?"

"Yes, Pestilence I have. But," Famine chuckled darkly, "He felt nothing. How perfect for someone who was destined to weld the Mark of Cain."

"Dean Winchester is stronger than any one of us could have ever imagined, Famine," Death drawled.

"I will never understand why you trust Dean Winchester, brother," remarked War.

The eldest Horseman slowly turned his head to regard his little brother with cold eyes.

"I never said I trust him. I simply find him amusing. He bound me without a second thought. I'll keep him around until he stops amusing me and then I will reap him myself. And never let him come back to a bodily form again."

"Until he stops _amusing_ you? Brother, he hurt us! He took our powers! Does that mean nothing to you? Strike him down! If not for the good of humanity, do it for your family!" War snapped.

Pestilence inwardly sighed. It was a never-ending battle. War (and even Famine, although he never vocally commented on it) had been angry at Death ever since he willingly handed his ring over to Dean Winchester. Of course, being the embodiment of War, he was always angry. But for as long as Pestilence could remember, his fury had never been directed at one of his brothers. Pestilence _hated_ when they fought.

"You are such a child, War," Death spoke harshly. "Everything I do is for my three little brothers. You know that."

"Oh? Well, may I remind you what happened during the winter of 1945? In the concentration camps of Bergan-Belsen? You didn't help us then! Or the conflict between Sumer and Elam? You just reap the souls and conveniently forget the fact that every human hates the rest of your brothers! Pestilence was almost killed after the liberation of the Auschwitz camp!"

"Leave me out of this, War," Pestilence grunted, rubbing his forehead again.

"I am merely pointing out that-"

"Enough!" Death thundered.

"Just because every mortal accepts _you_ as the inevitable, doesn't mean Pestilence, Famine, and I have to suffer in your stead," War gritted out.

"That is enough, War," Famine said wearily. "We do not need to go through this every time we meet."

"Yes, whatever happened to the good old days where I would spread a little smallpox, War would supply the hatred, Death would reap the lifeless, and Famine would spread his hunger then fill his belly with souls?" Pestilence joked, trying to lighten the mood.

War scoffed so loudly that Pestilence was sure if he had a form, that form's throat would be very badly sprained.

"That ship has sailed a long time ago. When our oldest brother decided his affiliations lie with hunters."

Pestilence's eyes shot to Death's face. Death's eyes were boiling with quiet fury. His fingers itched to grab for his scythe and reap his obstinate little brother. Instead, he closed his eyes and a dangerous leer spread across his face. Pestilence saw Death's bony fingers twitch as though he was imagining them around War's neck.

"Death?" murmured Pestilence.

Death's eyes flashed open once more and when he saw which brother was talking to him, the anger melted off his face. He actually smiled. It was no secret to any of the Horsemen that Pestilence was Death's favorite brother.

"Yes, little brother?"

Pestilence swallowed. "Will the Darkness be useful to us?"

Death sighed almost longingly, as though he knew more about the Darkness than he was letting on.

"Yes, Pestilence. I think, in the long run, we will find her power to be quite useful."

* * *

 **The Horsemen are probably OOC. It's hard for me to get their complete personalities when three of them only have about thirty minutes of actual screen time. Sorry about that!**


	3. Chapter Two

**My God, this one took forever. I'm glad my semester's winding down. I plan to write a whole damn lot over break...**

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

It was a few weeks later and Pestilence was enjoying a few peaceful moments at his favorite place on Earth. The humans called it 'The Swing at the End of the World.' Indeed, as he sat on the seat, it gave Pestilence the illusion that he was swinging out and over a never-ending void. It was beautiful and quiet. The mortals who monitored the volcano and who lived in the treehouse from where the swing hung, were out. Pestilence was in his bodily form which had turned into a withered husk when the Winchester brothers had stolen his ring. So perhaps, it was a good thing that the humans were gone. They wouldn't take too kindly to seeing a half dead looking, deformed man swinging on their swing.

The breeze was pleasant from atop the hill. It ruffled Pestilence's wispy hair. He was mostly naked, save for a quilt that was wrapped around his torso. He was a little ashamed of his newly shrunken body. He used to be a doctor, very good at what he did. But now he was nothing on Earth. He had to be nothing, for fear of causing mass panic at his physical body. Oh, if only he could get his ring back! But it was gone and he wasn't sure where it was. It certainly wasn't in Lucifer's Cage, that Pestilence knew. He and his brothers had looked upon the door to the Cage but to no avail. It made him sick and his missing finger was constantly felt by what the humans called 'phantom sensation.'

A song was stuck in his head, strangely enough. He didn't know the title or even really the tune but the words were just floating around his head mindlessly.

"In nineteen hundred and twenty-nine, men an' women sure was dying. From the disease what the doctors called the flu. People was dying everywhere, death was creeping through the air. For the groans of the sick sure was sad."

"It was God's almighty hand. He was judging this old land, North an' South. East an' West could be seen. Yes, he killed the rich an' poor, an' he's going to kill more," a new voice chimed in, "If you don't turn away from your sins."

Pestilence turned his body on the swing to listen to the tail end of Death's singing. There was no mist accompanying him this time and Pestilence knew that his older brother only used the fog when he wanted to annoy War. Death's body wasn't emaciated like his younger brothers' were either. Since he had given up his ring willingly, he still kept his form. Pestilence realized that Death had stopped his humming and noticed his baby brother's gaze on him.

"This is a beautiful place, Pestilence," Death remarked.

"I come here to watch the Earth and think. You know, this is where I created smallpox."

"Is it? I never knew that."

Pestilence nodded. "Yes. And then I brought it to Egypt."

"Now _that_ I remember. You infected Ramses V," Death answered.

"I did. And then you came to reap him."

Death hummed. "Indeed. He was so cocky, that human."

"All the Pharaohs of Egypt were like that," Pestilence said with a bit of childlike attitude. "Especially Ramses II."

"Certainly he was. As was Nero of Rome."

"Nero was terrible," Pestilence shivered. "And he was a coward in the end. Couldn't even kill himself."

Death agreed. "You're right. Making his secretary do it for him? How weak. When I reaped him, I told him so."

"Did he go to Hell, Death?"

"Without a doubt, Pestilence. He's most surely a demon now."

"Hmm. He deserved it."

"Perhaps he did, little brother. Perhaps he did."

There was a bit of silence. Pestilence shuffled his feet on the ground as Death peered over the cliff to look down at the so-called void. It wasn't really a void though. The swing and treehouse sat atop a steep hill, about one hundred feet up. The volcano that the mortals monitored from inside their treehouse was the majestic and active Tungurahua in Ecuador. It had last erupted in February of 2014 and Pestilence had been there to watch the ash fill the sky.

"Death?" Pestilence finally broke the silence.

"Yes, little brother?"

"Do you remember what it was like before God?"

Death sighed heavily. "It was lonely, Pestilence. Very lonely. A big, empty space. No souls to reap, nobody to have intelligent conversations with. It was just me and-and."

"And who?"

"No one. There was no one. It was just me."

Pestilence felt suspicious. There was something that Death wasn't telling him. But he didn't want to anger his older brother, so he let it go.

"How did you feel when we three came?" Pestilence decided to say.

"I did not like War quite so much. Famine was amusing. He helped me reap more souls than War ever did. Then you came along and I knew I would like you the best. My baby brother Pestilence."

"Do you remember it well? My creation?"

Death chuckled. "If I recall, you sneezed on me at our first meeting."

Pestilence felt his face burn. Oh boy, did he sure remember that. It had been his very first hour on Earth when he was immediately converged upon by War and Famine who looked at him with disgust. (Being the personification of disease, Pestilence was grey and sweaty with a coating of slime dripping from his nose.) It was only Death who held out his hand to the younger Horseman. And instead of shaking the proffered hand, Pestilence had let out a huge sneeze that splattered mucus all over Death's crisp suit. It was a miracle that Death didn't try and reap his newly created baby brother right then and there.

"I still feel terrible about that."

"Why? You are disease. There was nothing you could do until you learnt how to control it," Death said.

"You give me too much credit, Death," Pestilence said.

"You always have been my favorite brother, you know. So willing to learn. So unselfish."

Pestilence felt his chest glow with pride. He hastily cleared his throat to cover the feeling up and instead, turned to Death with another question.

"Do you know the title of that song we were just singing?"

"I believe it is "Influenza" by Ace Johnson. Written in 1939," Death said.

"Oh yes, about the Spanish Flu. One of my personal favorites, seeing as the H1N1 virus has lasted throughout history," Pestilence spoke.

"And do you have any further plans for it?"

"I'm planning a massive epidemic in December of 2023."

"Any casualties?"

Pestilence pursed his lips.

"Does one hundred sound like enough?"

Death actually grinned. "One hundred sounds magnificent, brother."

"Good. I'll have to get to work then. Need to go Mexico City and plan everything. I wonder if I can make it transmittable from mother to baby," Pestilence mused.

"It could be done," Death paused, as if listening to something, "My reapers are needing me, little brother. I will see you in a few days' time."

"Goodbye," Pestilence murmured as Death disappeared.

Pestilence pushed his feet off the ground once more and began pumping his legs so he flew up in the air and over the bottomless hill. He felt exhilarated with the wind blowing past his skin. The swing's ropes burned against his dry palms but he didn't care. He wanted to touch the sky with his toes. The quilt slid off his upper half as he swung back and forth. The cool breeze made him shiver in delight. God, he loved it up here. So many fond memories of disease and his exquisite germs. This _was_ the place where he created smallpox, along with his favorite disease, cholera. Cholera was spread by water and food that had been contaminated by human feces that contained the Vibrio cholera bacterium. There had been eight epidemics after Pestilence had first dropped it off in the Ganges River in about 1817. But due to rich humans' recent obsession with indoor plumbing, medicine and hygiene, cholera's frequency had drastically plummeted in the so-called 'first world' countries. It made Pestilence a little bit sad. His poor, prehistoric diseases at a standstill, thanks to modern medicine. That was why he had to adapt.

He'd cleaned himself off and swapped the swarm of flies, sickly complexion and permanently runny nose for a white lab coat, stethoscope and a fake ph. D in medicine. His name was Dr. Green and through his 'treatments', he was able to spread malaria, Rocky Mountain spotted fever, a little bit of anthrax and even foot rot. Foot rot was originally a hoof infection that attacked cows, sheep and pigs, but one day Pestilence was bored and made it so human feet could get infected with it. Patient Zero had been an incredibly annoying and self-righteous twenty-seven year old woman named Carrie. It made Pestilence grin with a smug expression when she saw her toes turn black and the skin to crack open between them. It had worked! Poor Carrie was just one of his many delegates, helping him to research his newest creations' effects on the human body. He'd even made up a little verse to the lilting tune of the nursery rhyme "Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary.' If he recalled, it went something like this;

 _Carrie, Carrie, my emissary_

 _Where did your toesies go?_

 _Turned all black and skin became cracked_

 _And you were filled with callous woe_

Pestilence always found himself changing the words in poems, nursery rhymes and songs whenever he worked with his elegant diseases. It made his job a little more fun and made his older brothers roll their eyes at his childish demeanor. But Pestilence really didn't care what War and Famine thought, just what Death thought. And Death always laughed at his baby brother's antics.

Suddenly, thudding footsteps were heard echoing throughout the woods. Pestilence snapped from his trance and skidded his toes on the ground to stop the movement of the swing. Just as a group of humans came into view, Pestilence disappeared.

He reappeared and glanced around in confusion. He had been aiming for Salar de Uyuni in Bolivia (christened "the World's Largest Mirror." It was a giant salt flat that when covered in rain, made an incredibly reflective surface. It was Pestilence's second favorite place in the world) but had ended up in some dark, boring grassland in Uruguay. Pestilence glanced around, trying to see what was going on. Out of the shadows appeared War with Famine right behind him.

"Brothers?" Pestilence asked, confused.

"Pestilence," War began, "We have a proposition for you."

"What is it?"

War looked over at Famine who huffed in irritation. It was abundantly clear to Pestilence that Famine was not as invested in this plan as War was.

"Pestilence, humans are a nuisance," Famine said. "A stain on the earth."

"Especially those Winchesters!" War added harshly.

"Yes, War," Pestilence quickly agreed.

"Can I continue?" Famine snapped, irritable.

War waved him on.

"Thank you. So little brother, War and I were thinking, what if you created a disease that could affect all of mankind? Wipe their filth from the earth?"

Pestilence actually scoffed. "God wouldn't let such a thing happen."

"God is no more," War said. "If He was still here, He would have showed his face a long time ago!"

"But Death said-"

"Death," snorted War. "Death doesn't know as much as he thinks he does."

"He's much older than you, War," Pestilence said quietly.

War growled low in his throat.

"When are you going to remove yourself from under Death's heel, Pestilence? When are you going to learn that Death doesn't care about us, any of us?" War said, crossly.

"But he does care."

"HE LET DEAN WINCHESTER RIP US APART!" War bellowed. "HE DOESN'T CARE ABOUT ME, FAMINE OR EVEN YOU! GET THAT THROUGH YOUR DAMN HEAD, PESTILENCE!"

Pestilence recoiled in alarm. War's eyes were snapping with lethality. He stomped his foot heavily on the ground and Pestilence heard a few far off roars of jaguars and a few howls from a pack of wolves. Bullets whizzed past the invisible brothers' heads and then two different groups of people were yelling and whooping. Famine groaned.

"War, calm down. Don't start anything now."

War pursed his lips tightly and nodded. His foot hit the ground again and all sparring noises ceased.

"Thank you."

To placate his permanently angry brother, Pestilence decided to ask him what he and Famine had in mind.

"What do you want me to do, War?"

"Create a disease to end all diseases. Wipe humans from the Earth."

Pestilence gnawed his bottom lip.

"I don't have the power to do something of that magnitude. You know that, War."

"That may be, but there is someone that could help you," Famine said quietly.

"Who?" Pestilence enquired with wide eyes.

"The Darkness," War answered.

"The what?!" Pestilence cried.

"The Darkness," Famine repeated.

"You want me to ask the—the Darkness to help me? No way! Are you both crazy? You heard Death, she was locked away for a reason!"

"Yes, because she is God's sister and He cannot imagine having another as powerful as Him on His Earth," War said scornfully.

Pestilence gaped. "The Darkness is God's _sister?"_

"Supposedly," answered Famine.

"You're kidding! Oh my Leviathan. I can't believe it. Are you serious, Famine?"

"Pestilence, focus! Are you going to do it or not?"

Pestilence audibly gulped. "I don't—I don't know, War."

"Let me rephrase that, little brother. Either you do it or…well, you do it," War snapped.

Pestilence trembled under his older brother's heavy gaze.

"So I don't get a choice in the matter, is what you're saying?"

War shrugged. "Either you do it or we make you, little bro."

The youngest Horseman locked eyes with his two older brothers. War's were boiling fiercely again but Famine's were soft, as though he wasn't entirely one hundred percent invested in War's plan to use their baby brother against the entire human race. Pestilence's eyes dropped to War's nub of a finger. War, sensing his brother's gaze, wiggled the slashed digit at him in a 'look what humans did to me, brother. Now do something about it!' way. Pestilence lifted his own hand and stared at the space where his finger used to be. He stared at it so long that when he closed his eyes, the image burned in his brain. That image clinched it for him and Pestilence finally nodded at Famine and War.

"Okay, brothers. I'll do it."

* * *

 **Hope you liked it! (The more I think on it and write them, I'm really digging War and Pestilence)**


	4. Chapter Three

**Look I'm finally back writing this one! Prawn, if you're still out there, hope you're not furious with me ;)**

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

It was about eleven at night as Pestilence took form on Earth. War and Famine had gave him information on where the Darkness would be and so it was where he appeared. He gazed around at his surroundings.

It was a bizarre meeting place, thought Pestilence. A bus stop in the middle of nowhere in the city of Charyn, Kazakhstan. He seated himself on the small wooden bench, admiring the colorful wall painted full of doves and trees behind him. Pestilence tugged on the sleeves of grey and yellow sweater. He was strangely cold in this Central Asian country. His nose twitched and he let out a huge sneeze, covering his face and hands in a sickly green slime.

"Well, looks like I've come to the right place," an amused voice spoke.

Pestilence tugged a tissue from his sleeve and hastily tried to clean himself up. A beautiful woman stepped out of the shadows and gazed down at him, entertained. After he felt uncontaminated of snot, Pestilence stood up and nodded nervously at the woman.

"Are you the Darkness?"

"Amara," the Darkness said. "Call me Amara."

To Pestilence's complete surprise, Amara held out her hand willingly. The two beings shook hands; the woman not being even remotely disgusted that she was clutching a hand that had been covered in snot a few minutes before.

"Amara," Pestilence repeated. "You look different than I thought you would."

The Darkness grinned. Her grin was one of malignant power and Pestilence had the strangest urge to either run away or worship at her feet.

"I do hear that a lot. Now, tell me Pestilence. What is it you desire of me?"

Pestilence's jaw dropped. "What? Wait, how do you- What?"

"I am the Darkness. I know what you are thinking even before you think it," Amara answered matter-of-factly.

"If you know, then why do I even have to ask it of you?" Pestilence asked.

Amara grinned again. "Because I like hearing the absolute _desperation_ in one's voice."

"Oh."

A bit of silence accompanied Pestilence's anxious reply. He shuffled his feet on the ground before looking up at Amara again. Her eyes were softer now.

"Come now, Pestilence. What it is you want?"

"I need you to help me spread a disease that will kill every human in the world."

The Darkness was clearly not expecting something like that. She let out a shocked little cry and walked closer to Pestilence until they were standing nose to nose. Pestilence began to sweat as she continued to stare deeply into his eyes.

"And how would we go about this?"

"Well," Pestilence started, "I would make the disease and you would help to spread it. Just like how you made those humans go mad and kill each other. Spread it quick like. That is something I cannot do."

"And what would be in it for me?"

"It would get the attention of God," Pestilence answered.

"The attention of God. What do you mean by that?" Amara asked warningly.

"That's what you're trying to do, isn't it? Get God's attention?"

"I suppose it is," the Darkness said stingily.

"If you killed all of the humans, surely God would pay attention," Pestilence pointed out.

Another bit of silence. Pestilence wondered if he had pushed the Darkness too far. Surely that wouldn't end well for him. Pissing off a creature equal in strength to God would have to have serious consequences. But luckily for Pestilence, Amara was in a giving mood.

"A disease that will kill all humans?" she mused, circling Pestilence. "And what disease were you thinking of?"

"Oh, right!"

Pestilence fumbled in the pockets of his pants. He pulled out a clear test tube, filled to the brim with a cloudy orange liquid. A cork was jammed into the top, preventing any sort of accidental seepage.

Amara cocked an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"Well," Pestilence said, straightening up importantly. "It has the ability to spread like a rotavirus, makes one bleed out of every orfice like Ebola, is harder to treat than drug resistant tuberculosis, can be spread through any type of water or a simple touch directly on one's mouth _and_ it causes vomiting and diarrhea. A person will die within ten hours of contraction. Guaranteed. "

"And what do you call this disease?" Amara asked, looking slightly impressed.

"Robola DRT."

Amara smacked her lips. "We'll have to work on the name later. I don't like that one so much."

Pestilence went to defend his creation's title.

"But—"

"Now, what must I do?" Amara finished.

Pestilence sighed in defeat. No use arguing over a silly name with a being this powerful.

"One drop in the Ganges, one drop in the Mississippi, one drop in the Nile, one drop in the Amazon, and one drop in the Arctic Ocean. Then repeat the process after five minutes. But every drop must be exactly the same size and be dropped within four seconds of each other. That's why I need you. I cannot travel that fast."

The Darkness nodded. "All right. When?"

"Any day you wish. Just give me a heads-up first, please," Pestilence replied.

"All right. See you soon."

Amara took the proffered test tube from the youngest Horseman's grip. With a quiet wave and a gentle wind, the Darkness was gone and Pestilence was alone again.

"That was strangely easy," Pestilence muttered.

He thought to himself for a moment before adding; "That doesn't bode well."

But he pushed that thought out of his mind. If this worked in his favor, he and his brothers would finally get revenge on the human race. He hoped that he could witness when the Winchester brothers were infected. Oh, how he wanted to watch them scream! And Famine would have all the souls he could eat! And War would be happy too as the blood of billions stained the earth! And Death…

Oh dear.

Pestilence worried his lip between his teeth. If all humans were dead within ten days, what would the reapers do? That had never crossed Pestilence's mind. Would they just disappear forever? Or would they get angry and end up reaping everything they could find, including God and his angels?

"War, Famine," Pestilence mumbled.

When there was no response, he got a bit louder.

"WAR! FAMINE!"

Again, nothing.

"WAR!" Pestilence hollered as loud as he could. "FAMINE! I NEED TO TALK TO YOU! NOW!"

Finally, he felt his brothers behind him. Pestilence turned around and there they stood, War looking incontrovertibly pissed off.

"What is it, Cimex?" War snapped.

"Don't call me a bug, War. You know I hate that!" Pestilence replied.

"You're such a child, Pestilence."

"Shut up. This was your idea!"

"But you still agreed."

"Because you were giving me an ultimatum! Either I do it, or you force me to!"

"Brothers, please," Famine interrupted. "Pestilence, what is it that you needed?"

Pestilence sighed heavily. "Brothers, if we get rid of all the humans, what will become of Death and his reapers?"

The older Horsemen paled. This dilemma apparently hadn't crossed their minds. And if all the humans were dead and the reapers had no souls left, Death would surely be furious at whoever was the cause of this. Both because of all the work that would be required of him at first and then the eventual complete lull in souls to take.

Suddenly, a scream broke through the silence.

"What?" Pestilence cried, startled.

Another scream. And another. And another and another, until they were building in pitch and frequency. A chorus of screams rang out from the very ground that Pestilence and his brothers were standing on.

"What did you do?" asked War.

Pestilence was afraid.

"I gave the Darkness my test tube to pour in the waters on Earth."

"I thought you said death was inevitable in ten days! It sounds like people are dying after ten _seconds!"_ Famine cried.

"Oh no. Oh no. This can't be happening. This cannot be happening. Brothers, I must go," Pestilence murmured.

With a blast of wind, Pestilence swept himself up and circled around the globe as he tried to lay eyes on Amara. What he witnessed was devastating. People were dropping like flies every few seconds. And Amara stood in the middle of it all, watching with a proud expression on her pretty face.

"Pestilence!" she cried when she caught sight of him. "Your germs! They are so beautiful! Look at all this perfect destruction!"

"Amara," Pestilence began worriedly, "What did you do?'

"Hmm?"

"People are supposed to die after ten _days_ , Amara! Not ten _seconds!"_

"Oh that," the Darkness waves her hand dismissively. "I just boosted the killing power, is all. Ten seconds will get God's attention much faster, don't you agree?"

"No!" Pestilence cried.

There was silence as Amara stepped closer to Pestilence, her brown eyes alight with simmering anger. It boiled under her skin, about to erupt and slaughter the youngest Horseman.

"No?" she said dangerously.

Pestilence hung his head and held out his hands in a sign of submission.

"Forgive me. I just meant that- that-"

"That what?" the Darkness smiled darkly. "You are concerned for these humans?"

"No, certainly not!" Pestilence said indignantly.

"Then you are concerned as to how God will react?"

"Not really."

"Then," Amara paused, studying him. "You are concerned for your brother and his reapers?"

Pestilence started. "I-uh-I-"

"You are concerned. Very concerned," the Darkness stated, amused. "What a peculiar Horseman you are, Pestilence. Caring so much for another being."

"He's my brother," Pestilence said sharply.

"And God is mine."

"I just meant that- well, what would happen to Death after all his humans were gone?"

"He would finally reap my brother. And after that, he would cease to exist."

Pestilence looked murderously up at Amara. "No."

"Mmm, I'm afraid so, little Cimex," chuckled the Darkness madly. "I'm afraid so."

Pestilence gritted his teeth at the nickname. What was that saying that humans said whenever they were in trouble? Fuck! That's it, fuck. Yes, fuck, he was in so much trouble. But then he had a thought.

"If Death reaps God," Pestilence began, "Wouldn't that mean he'd reap you as well, Amara?"

Amara laughed, an evil, terrifying noise. "Death couldn't reap me."

"And you know that for certain?"

"God is the light, Pestilence. I am the dark. He gives, I take. He gives his life, I take that life. How can Death take something that isn't? God has everything to give. I have everything to take. We are opposites, you see."

"I do see," Pestilence said carefully. "However that does not mean you won't be stopped, Amara. We are not afraid of you."

"Oh?"

"No," Pestilence stood up to his full height, "We are not afraid. My brothers and I will stop you, Amara. We are the Four Horsemen. More powerful than the archangels. Which you should know, as Lucifer had to bind my brother to do his bidding. Humans are scum to us, mere protozoa. But we will fight you, and we will win. We always win."

"Do you really believe that you four could stop me?" the Darkness cackled, causing lightning to streak through the sky. "Me?"

"I do, very much," said Pestilence. "My brothers and I will beat you. And why, you ask?"

He paused, gathering all his strength. Despite not having his ring, Pestilence's frail body glowed for a second underneath his sweater as he reclaimed his true form, if only for a minute. His skin became clear and his eyes flashed with new found rage.

"Because extinction, disease, bloodshed, and hunger always win."


End file.
